“...say that again,” John said quietly.
His entire body was trembling, telling him to move, to fight, to run, to just do something. Prota had never seen him look so alive. She didn’t understand why that one sentence had made him so afraid. What was so important about his memories? How did one even hand over memories? Prota’s lack of information wasn’t what mattered right now, though. John knew what this demon meant, and he didn’t want to believe what he’d just heard. His fatigue and pain must’ve been making him delusional. Right, he was going crazy. That had to be it.
“You heard me. I was perfectly clear. I am here for your memories. Are you deaf?”
“...hey. Who the fuck are you?”
“I am Diaboli, the demon king. And I told you. I want your memories. It seems you are somewhat dense. I expected someone of your calibre to have at least some intelligence.”
Diaboli smirked and licked her lips seductively. John felt disgusted.
“You’re just a demon king. You can’t be more generic than that. Why am I even listening to you?”
They were senseless words that John had said as he racked his brain for a solution, but they were words that had weight. Nobody but someone like him would’ve known how much weight they carried, but anyone who heard the type of language John was using was someone in the know. John had assumed that he was the only person.
“I’m generic, am I? Hmm. Blame your [Author] if you truly dislike it so much.”
[Author]. What had she just said? It wasn’t like it was a rare, powerful word, but the way she’d said it… no, she knew. She knew, and it was because she had his memories. He couldn’t deny it anymore. He couldn’t lie to himself and say that this Demon King didn’t know what was going on in this world. And from the look on her face, she knew that he’d just come to that realization.
“You… no, no, there’s no way. Stop fucking with me!” John yelled, the light in his red eye flashing once more. A beam of pure red energy shot out of his hand, washing over the enemy and flattening a mountain in the distance.
The demon in front of him was perfectly fine when the dust subsided.
“Your memories. You are searching for them, are you not?”
“...stop spewing bullshit and get to the point.”
John felt a bead of sweat dripping down his cheek. That blast wasn’t meant to kill. It’d been a test. If the creature in front of him were a fraud and were lying through her teeth, she would’ve died. Probably. But seeing how confident she was in being unharmed, she really did have his memories. More than that, she had the power that came along with them. And now John didn’t know what to do.
He was so used to being in control. Knowing something others didn’t, playing chess while everyone was playing checkers, but now… now, he was faced with something he truly had no control over. For the first time, he was fighting against someone who knew just as much as he did.
“You are still in denial. I know everything, John Quarta. [Reader]. [Writer]. [Character]. [Plot]. Do those words not ring a bell? Is your amnesia that bad?”
“...hey, don’t just say random things. Come on, let’s make some sense here,” John stammered, his breath shallow as his heartrate quickened even further.
“A sheaf of red pages, black ink detailing fragments of a story. But what a story it was. Broken sentences, bits of a life, but what a life they showed! And oh, the power that came along with it…”
The demon wiggled her fingers and giggled. “The old demon king was no match for me. This power, it’s… beyond even the gods themselves. I want more, John Quarta. And you are the originator of this power, no? The source. I need it. Give it to me.”
John grit his teeth. “Those are my memories, bitch. You shouldn’t be poking into them.”
“And yet, here we are,” Diaboli grinned. “As soon as I absorb the memory fragments you own, I will travel, and I will put them all together. And then they will be mine, not yours. You will be nothing.”
John clenched his fists. It wasn’t just his eye now. His entire body was beginning to glow, power coursing through every vein of his body. His body was flooded with emotion. However, unlike earlier, he wasn’t feeling anger. One singular emotion flooded his entire body, ever fibre of his being.
Panic. A shocking, electrifying panic, yelling at him to either fight or flee, telling him that this being should either be killed or feared.
“Ah, and before I continue… that child. She’s mine,” Diaboli announced, pointing right at Prota.
Prota’s eyes widened as memories rushed through her head. The shadowy figure that had taken her sister.
Was it the being in front of her? Was this that same bineg?
John didn’t bother to beat around the bush. “Was that you? The one who attacked her village?”
“Of course!” The demon said it as if it were nothing. “She’s mine, after all. She will be useful.”
“And her sister?”
“...?” Diaboli frowned. “A sister? I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t feign ignorance,” John growled. “You didn’t burn down her house and kidnap her sister?”
“Really. Why would I lie? You’re going to die anyway. I really have no clue what you’re talking about. Is this something related to your memories that I don’t understand?”
John frowned. He didn’t want to believe it, but… it made sense. What reason did the demon have to lie? No, hold on a minute. It didn’t matter. The important thing right now was to make it through this.
“Well, there’s no need for me to answer your question, right? If you’re dead, you won’t be able to make use of it anyway.”
Fear was shooting through John’s veins like a hot poison, forcing his body up and back into the action. Right. There was only one option here.
Fight.
The demon struck first. John blinked, and the demon was nowhere to be found. John felt the blade coming from behind him and moved without thinking, teleporting far, far away.
“I suppose it was foolish of me to believe this would be easy,” the demon sighed. “Very well. I will entertain your delusions of survival.”
Their bodies became blurs as the pace picked up, sparks flying out as the only indicator that they were attacking each other at all. A shockwave of energy burst out as they collided with a particularly heavy blow, knocking everything in the area flat to the ground. Prota was barely hanging on to consciousness, like a leaf fighting against the wind, clinging on to the branch it was attached to.
Magic began pouring down from every direction as if a meteor storm had decided to invite itself to the battle. Massive craters were forming in the ground, lighting the fields on fire and turning the battlefield into hell itself. Beams of light shot up like pillars, shots of energy firing off and exploding in the air like fireworks. It was if the apocalypse had arrived, but neither contestant cared.
John was feeling the pressure. Despite the impressive show he was putting on, he wasn’t feeling very good about this fight. It didn’t matter how powerful John was. One hit from the Demon King, and he’d be gone. With a mighty cry, he channelled as much power as possible into his fist and threw a punch, smashing the sword in Diaboli’s hand into dust. She looked down with a look of mild disgust.
“I thought you would be weaker than this. Should you not be lacking most of your memories?”
“What gives you that idea?”
“I see fragments of multiple worlds. It seems that what I obtained is but a mere fraction of a whole. Therefore, should you not be in the same position?”
John frowned. “What kind of stupid ass logic is that? Just because you’re a little bitch means I have to be one too?”
The demon king shook her head. “No matter. I will find out just how powerful you were for myself when I extract your memories from you.”
Her body began to glow a dark purple, and the aura surrounding her intensified by a millionfold. It was enough to decimate the surrounding area into flat, barren ground. As if to counter this, John’s body began to glow even more, pushing through the power with an equivalent amount of energy. His scarf fluttered in the wind behind him as he stood, staring down at his opponent.
“...? Your [Deus Ex Machina] energy is weaker than I thought it would’ve been.”
“Oh, is that the name?” Diaboli said. “That sounds stupid.”
“You come into my life, take my powers, and tell me my naming scheme is stupid?!”
“The victors are the ones who write history. I will say what I please.”
“Bold of you to assume you’re going to win. And I wasn’t the one who named it, you know? Who do you think gave us these god like powers anyway?”
“Tch… [Fourth Wall] is no longer useable, not anymore. [Determination] isn’t strong enough to handle the amount of stress on my brain right now… It’s now or nothing.”
John tapped the side of his head, the aura around him intensifying. He cringe a little. The naming scheme for his power was, in his opinion, awful, but it was just how it went.
“Power: x1000000000.”
The two were at it again in a flash, explosions and energy replacing the very air they were breathing. The very ground was obliterated into nothingness, and it was possible the world might’ve been shattered to pieces had it not been for one thing.
“...? Did you set this barrier up?” John frowned. “When did you have the luxury of doing something like this?”
A high energy barrier surrounding them was stopping the energy from leaking out. He snuck a glance back and saw that while Prota was afraid, she was also alive. It was almost as if the demon king wanted to protect the surroundings. But why? For what reason?
“You think you can look away during a fight?” Diaboli said, appearing behind John. He dodged in time, but it didn’t matter. The sheer force of the wind surrounding the blow sent him flying. He smashed into the wall of the barrier, his ribs immediately shattering upon the force of the impact.
“Guh-!” John gasped, coughing up blood. “You fucking bitch-!” He momentarily collapsed as a searing pain seized his head, causing him to fall to the ground, writhing in agony. He threw up a mixture of bile mixed with blood, his vision swimming as he got on his knees.
“It’s running out… [Determination] isn’t holding up. Gotta finish this fast.”
He held his hands out in front of him, a ball of pure, concentrated energy forming in his hands. If one had to describe the power, it would be as if someone had taken the sun and condensed it into the size of a baseball. The sky started filling itself with these balls, lighting the area up and turning night into day. With a single snap of John’s fingers, they launched themselves at Diaboli, homing in without mercy.
“Pathetic.” Diaboli opened her mouth, spewing a giant energy beam that overwhelmed John’s attack, like a garden hose pushing away a squirt gun.
“Who’s looking away now?”
John had never intended for his first attack to kill his enemy. No, it’d been a distraction, and the real weapon were the twin blades in his hands. It wasn’t the same blade that he’d used earlier. That blade wouldn’t have lasted a second in this fight. Now, he held two sleek blades, one red, one black, made of a metal no one had ever seen. They moved through the air like a mirage, moving with such control that one might’ve assumed they were simply extensions of John himself.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
“Kh-!” Diaboli grunted and ducked just in time to avoid getting her head lopped off. In return, a lock of her hair was sliced away as her beam poured down upon the earth, shaking the very ground itself.
The two fell back and then re-engaged, delivering hundreds upon hundreds of blows. John flicked his hand up, and a geyser of flame shot up, countered by Diaboli’s pillar of ice, which was then redirected to stab John. He smashed his fist into the ice and carried on, a wall of light forming behind him made of pure magic, ready to fire. Spell after spell, blow after blow, a never-ending torrent of attacks that could easily end the fight if even one of them landed.
The demon king fell back, preparing an attack of her own, summoning a massive ball of energy in front of her and condensing it down to a single speck of light. The wind swirled around the magic that contained the energy to wipe out a planet.
“Finally. I will have your memories.”
“You’ll have my memories? That’s bold. You’re not even operating at full power.”
“You are overconfidant. This is more than enough to be your demise.”
“You talk a lot of bullshit.”
“Then let us talk no more.”
A massive explosion shook the earth, the entirety of the barrier filling up with an enormous ball of flame, obscuring vision of anything going on inside. Prota was still watching, unable to believe her eyes. Seeing two such beings fight each other at such a level was some kind of miracle, a mistake against nature and god.
The barrier went down as the explosion faded, and only one figure was left standing.
“John?” she called out cautiously. She strained her eyes to see who was standing, but it was-
“I… didn’t think you would be able to take one of my horns off,” Diaboli gasped, injured, but she was standing. John, on the other hand, was in a terrible state.
He was lying on the ground like a rag doll, his limbs twisted and broken. A large hole pierced his chest, and a thin stream of blood trickled out of his mouth. His clothes were torn to bits, his swords laying on the ground beside him. Despite all that, his body twitched. He was alive.
“John!” Prota yelled, then immediately covered her mouth. She turned to run, but it was pointless.
“Ah. The girl,” Diaboli said, turning to Prota. “You… are mine. Come along now.”
Despite the heavy injuries the demon king had apparently sustained, she floated over and picked Prota up by the neck. The small girl could do nothing but struggle as Diaboli tossed Prota over her shoulder like a bag of rice. She kicked and struggled, but she would’ve had better success tsplitting an atom with her bare hands.
“Ah, and one more thing.”
She floated back over to John, a malicious light in her eyes.
“Your memories. Come, now, are you really unconscious? You cannot possibly be that weak. You put up a struggle, like a cockroach avoiding death, only to depart like this?”
There was no reaction.
“Could it be that you’re trying to trick me? It seems you’ve grown attached to my little pet. So If I do this…”
Her fingernail traced around Prota’s neck, leaving a thin line of ruby red blood.
“I’ll-”
Diaboli didn’t even get to finish her sentence as John’s eyes shot open, his red eye flaming once more. He shot up and grabbed Diaboli’s neck, a vicious look on his face. She was so shocked she dropped Prota, who quickly began to crawl away.
“Ok, you fucked me up a little. That doesn’t mean shit.”
His grip tightened around the demon’s neck as his hand began to glow.
“Detonate.”
A massive explosion engulfed the demon king’s head, the heat emanating from the attack hot enough to instantly set everything around it on fire. The pressure the magic applied, however, quickly snuffed the flames out, leaving nothing but barren dirt.
“Ngh- ugh,” John gasped, then fell to the ground, completely spent. His eyes started glazing over as his vision started swimming out of focus, blood trickling out of his mouth.
“You- did you just use your life as a proxy for that spell?” Diaboli exclaimed. “You fool! Was it worth your life to-”
She stumbled and fell to the ground, dazed. She was alive, but she wouldn’t be able to take a resisting Prota with her if she wanted to get out alive.
“I’ll be back for her. And you, if you’re even alive by that point. Don’t you forget it.”
With that, the demon king vanished.
“Ah… She’s gone,” John said, his voice barely audible. “To think… my memories, which I’d been looking for this entire time… were in a [Character’s] hands… Ironic, isn’t it? The thing I’ve been looking down on…”
He closed his eyes. Death was here. He couldn’t help but laugh, but it hurt to even do that. Wasn’t it all interesting?
“J-John…”
No. He couldn’t close his eyes just yet. Since when was he so concerned with goodbyes? Maybe… maybe Zero was right. He was too much of a coward to just let her go. He really had changed.
“Prota,” he wheezed. The hole in his chest had been seared shut, preventing him from bleeding out, but it was simply a matter of time before he died.
“John,” Prota said, collapsing onto John’s chest, gripping him tight. She was trying not to show it, but she was scared. Really scared.
“John… you’re ok, right? You won’t go?” Prota said, holding on tight. No tears came. Perhaps she had run out a long time ago.
John looked up at his sister. A foreign feeling washed over him. What was this? …ah, right. Someone worrying over you. Concerned for your health. Concerned for your life.
“...Prota.”
The small girl looked up, hope rising her eyes. John would be fine. Just earlier they’d been walking down the street, looking up at the stars. Those stars were still there, shining brilliantly. Right, everything was the same. They’d get home, go to sleep, and John would wake up late. They’d do whatever he had planned, and everything would be back to normal. He just had to recover from this. That was all. Because he’d definitely recover. He’d get back to normal in no time.
“Thank you.”
Her eyes shot wide open as John completely destroyed any last delusions she might’ve had. There was no recovery. There was no return. Prota couldn’t lie to herself anymore.
“N-no! John, please, don’t go…”
She’d rediscovered a world. She’d rediscovered trust, family, a home, a power she could use to protect, a power she could use to bring back her sister. As soon as she’d received it, it’d been ripped away from her, torn from her hands, just like before.
The world just didn’t want her to have anything.
A birthday. A party. A happy scene, ripped away in an instant. No warning. Nothing to show that today would be the worst day of your life. Just pain and suffering, rushing through like a storm, ravaging everything around you, and then it was gone, just like that.
Was she cursed to be eternally alone?
“Please! Don’t go!” she sobbed. “No, no, you can’t go, John… you have to stay…”
Everything was all her fault. All that talk about protecting, all that talk about getting stronger, it was all just a pipe dream. Meaningless lies she told herself to cope with everything around her. She couldn’t protect shit. Useless. That’s all she was.
“I’m… I’m sorry…”
“Hey. What are you apologizing for?”
“...?”
“What did you do wrong?”
“If… if I wasn’t so weak, John wouldn’t be…”
“Mm… Prota. I don’t think you could’ve done anything here,” John muttered. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for the faults of others. The only thing you can focus on…”
“Is you.”
The field around the two was completely barren. The earth was scorched, not a single hint of any living thing around. A calm breeze began to blow through the area, blowing through Prota’s hair and causing it to flutter around her face. The sky above was perfectly clear, the stars beginning to fade.
“Prota.” John coughed, and his face twisted with pain. “I… It’s funny, isn’t it? I met you on the verge of death, helped you get better… and here we are, on my deathbed…”
He closed his eyes.
“I’m not kidding. Thank you.”
She could do nothing but hold John’s now cold hand. Her hopes and dreams had been smashed to pieces, unrecoverable. All she could do was get the most out of these last moments with the one who’d saved her life. He struggled to speak, and she had to lean in to hear his raspy voice.
“You did something special for me,” John wheezed. “And it was really worth it. So don’t worry too much, ok?”
With a tremendous effort, he lifted his hand and poked Prota’s chest.
“Don’t blame yourself for anything. You’re just a kid. You have so much potential ahead of you. You’re blaming yourself, aren’t you?”
She nodded, gripping John’s hand even tighter as if she could physically stop him from leaving.
“And what’s the alternative? You died? Let’s be serious, Prota. I did this. You didn’t ask me to. So how is it your fault?”
For a second, John’s pulse stopped, and in that instant, Prota’s heart froze. His head dropped down, his body going limp. Then, just like that, he was back, but his eyes were dead. His body was cold. There wasn’t much time left.
“Thank you. For that year. For staying with me. For being my partner.”
John’s chest began to rise and fall rapidly, trying to pull in as much oxygen as possible. Trying to get as many words out as he could.
“For being my sister.”
His hand squeezed just a bit, and he opened his eyes.
In them was a warm light that finally matched his smile. His left eye was glowing, but the light was slowly fading as if the power within him was keeping him alive for just a moment more.
Suddenly, Prota snapped out of her trance. She shook her head furiously, tears once more flowing out of her eyes. She refused to believe it. She would save him.
She would protect him. She would protect everyone, so she’d never have to lose anyone again. No, she wouldn’t lose him. She had something now. A power. A unique ability that she knew how to control, an ability so unique it cause people to call her a demon. Surely she could do something. She’d promised, hadn’t she? She’d etched those words onto her heart, swearing to protect those around her.
She was John’s protector, right?
“I’ll save you! I’ll save you, I’ll save you, so stay with me… please… don’t leave me alone again!”
John watched as a single tear dripped down her face. A few sentences. That was all he could get before he died.
“Hey. We all die eventually. So don’t cry. I’ll see you again soon, ok?”
“What-”
One last thing. She probably wouldn’t remember it, and she wouldn’t know what it meant, but he had to tell her.
“Prota. You were real to me.”
John’s lips opened one more time as if he had something left to say, but no words came out. His head slowly fell to the ground, tilting to the side, his eyes frozen and empty. His cold body was stiff, as if it’d been kept alive longer than it should’ve.
“John. Wake up, John,” Prota muttered, holding his cheeks. She shook his head, but nothing happened.
Her voice was somehow even more empty than usual. While it was as quiet and monotone as always, it was now stiff, cold, as if repeating words on a script. She stared at John with a blank expression, slapping his face, shaking his body, but nothing. No response.
He was just sleeping. He was sleeping in again, as always. He would wake up soon. He’d wake up, and he’d give her that smile with his empty eyes, and they’d have breakfast, and…
But no matter how much she waited, John would not get back up. No. This wasn’t happening. Not again. The nightmare couldn’t be starting over again. She’d just escaped it, she’d just-
Prota cried out, wailing as she once more lost her only companion. She held onto the corpse that was slowly growing colder and colder as if warming it with her own body would somehow bring it back. But that couldn’t be true. No matter what she did, he’d never come back. The lies she’d been telling herself were slowly crumbling down. Eventually, she had to come to terms with reality.
“...” Prota’s face returned to its neutral expression. Right. The time with John had been a gift. A privilege that could easily taken away. This life of hers was the norm. What was meant to be. And she had a strategy for this kind of life, didn’t she?
Dull yourself so that nothing could ever harm you again. Push everything else out so that nothing could come in. With that, she took her staff off her back and slowly trudged her way back to the city.
She was back to where she had started.